


No Matter Where You Go

by victoriousscarf



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fili as King Under the Mountain, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-07
Updated: 2013-02-07
Packaged: 2017-11-28 12:32:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/674428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/victoriousscarf/pseuds/victoriousscarf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Will you go to war with the elves?” he asked.</p><p>“Yes,” Fili replied and Dain nodded.</p><p>“For the Heart of the Mountain,” he said and Fili only nodded.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Matter Where You Go

**Author's Note:**

> This started in an attempt to see how far Fili could be pushed. It didn't really go where I intended it to, but hey.
> 
> Rampart Silmarillion references.

Fili had a terrible feeling that nothing had gone the way it was supposed to.

He sat on the battlefield in front of the Lonely Mountain, watching the Eagles soar away into the sky. Gore slide down his braids and his two swords lay near his exhausted hands, ready to be picked up at a moment’s notice. Knives were long gone, and the throwing axes were lost somewhere on the field, and one of the swords he held was no longer his sturdy blade of dwarven make, but a goblin blade he’d swept up when his own blade shattered in his hands.

Dwarves were nothing if not opportunists.

He could hear the sounds of Balin behind him, and Dwalin’s deep throated roar of grief and failure. Gloin and Oin were picking their way through the bodies, Nori and Ori somewhere near the gate, holding each other and crying softly. Fili had thought he saw Bofur go searching for Bilbo with Gandalf but for once he could not make himself care about the hobbit.

The only reason he had not yet turned toward where Balin was standing over the body of his uncle was because he was watching Kili slowly walk toward him. The dark haired dwarf had the shoulder of his jacket ripped off, mail shining duly through the matted black blood. A warg had grabbed Kili by the shoulder in the midst of battle, dragging him away, Fili uselessly throwing his last axe after them. With a roar Fili had broken away from his uncle to chase after the warg scout just as the leader of the goblin armies had reared up in front of Thorin. Fili had turned away from Kili in time to see his uncle struck down and not rise again.

That time at least his fury had done something and now he sat with the head of the orc in his lap, watching his brother slowly approach, sounds of those injured still on the field and the grief of their companions in his ears.

Dain was somewhere on the field, tending to his own dwarves but Fili did not care for him at the moment, nor the men roaming for their injured. All that mattered was that Kili still stood and finally his brother stopped in front of him. Tilting his head back, Fili watched him as all the fight seemed to melt off the dwarf and he sank down to his knees in front of Fili.

For a long moment they just stared at each other before Kili collapsed further and Fili pushed the orc head out of his lap to make way for his brother’s, fingers tangling in the dark hair.

He had a feeling, a shiver in his mind that they were not supposed to be there, that they should have fallen in front of their uncle rather than be dragged away. His fingers tightened further and Kili didn’t make a sound of complaint, just burying his head further down, cheek smashed against the mail covering Fili’s legs.

“Brother,” he heard finally, the sound broken. Before he could say anything Fili felt a hand on his shoulder, looking up to see Dwalin behind him, face grim.

“You’re king under the mountain now,” he said, voice gruffer than usual, and horse with battle and pain. Head still in Fili’s lap, Kili tilted his face up to look at the bald dwarf, expression hallowing and Dwalin felt the boy’s pain like a further stab to his gut. His leg had been pierced by a spear and he was sure he would limp for the rest of his life.

As a warrior, he just knew what his body would not recover from.

Slowly, Fili pushed himself to his feet, pulling his brother with him and they leaned against each other, standing as one being to approach where their uncle lay, covered in Balin’s over coat. Slowly, the older dwarf, his white beard smeared with red and black blood rose, holding out a ring that Fili had always seen on their uncle’s hands.

“This belongs to the King Under the Mountain,” Balin said, breath catching and it took Fili an eternity to reach forward and take it. Hesitating just a moment later, Balin looked over as Bifur approached, and the dwarf had returned to the mountain, to make sure no one had entered the halls and on the way out he’d picked up a circlet, made of a silver-steel metal, not much as crowns went but Bifur understood the importance of symbols, even if he couldn’t always say so or explain why.

For a long moment the small group of dwarves didn’t say a word. “Are you—?” Kili finally rasped out and Fili tightened his grip around his arm before stepping away slightly and Balin took the circlet from Bifur. For another breath no one moved before Balin nodded.

“It is a good choice,” he murmured to Bifur who nodded, having been sure enough in his choice before stepping forward and Fili closed his eyes when Balin placed the metal on his blood soaked hair, sure the gore would stain the metal and never come off again. “You are the King Under the Mountain,” Balin said and sank down in a bow, the body of Thorin still nearby. Several of their other companions had trickled toward them, Bombor blinking wide eyes, half his circle beard shorn off and Ori looking sick and pale under the gore. One by one they sank down, Dwalin pounding a hand against his heart and bowing his tattooed head.

Kili wavered, looking at his brother with wide eyes, shining in his face before he fell down to one knee last of all.

Understanding the need for this, Fili tried to hold still and look as majestic as his uncle had simply by breathing before he could stand it no longer, pulling Balin up first, feeling the old dwarf’s knees creak before hoisting his brother up. As the others rose he pressed against Kili’s side. “Support me,” he murmured into Kili’s ear, the metal of his make shift crown pressing against both their heads.

“Always,” Kili replied, turning so his forehead rested against the crown and he could speak directly to Fili’s ear. “No matter where you go.”

Finally, they turned back toward the mountain, Dwalin and Bifur lifting up Thorin’s body to lay him in state in their kingdom. Fili and Kili lead the procession, seeing Dain and his army to one side but Dain nodded, allowing the companions the first victorious and official entrance.

They were stopped at the doorway, Bofur standing, hat lost somewhere in the mire and Bard grim faced at his side. “What is it?” Kili asked because Fili could not find the energy to speak another word.

“The Arkenstone,” Bard started and stopped, looking away with something like shame and anger twisting his mouth.

“What about it?” Fili managed, arm locking around his brother’s waist.

“It’s, well, it’s missing,” Bofur finished when Bard could not seem to find the words. “It’s gone. So are the elves.”

For a moment Fili didn’t react, didn’t move, feeling the rush of blood in his ears, all his uncle’s hatred of elves shrieking in his mind. “We’ll get it back,” he rasped and Bard turned toward him. “Until the stone is returned, the men will get no help from us,” he said and he could see Bofur’s obvious distress and Bard’s eyes narrowed.

“I killed the dragon,” he said, stepping forward.

“The Arkenstone was ransomed to you by a thief,” Fili replied and he could feel the shake that went through Kili. “You will get that ransom when we get the heart of our mountain. Until then, you have no claim to anything from these halls.” Gloin and Oin had joined the back of their group and Fili caught Dain and his lieutenants approach from the side, a veritable wall of dwarves in front of Bard.

Taking a breath, Bard finally inclined his head, his own men exhausted and in desperate need of stores and food and unable to fight another battle. Instead he turned, picking his way back down toward his camped men.

“You might have cause to regret that,” Balin said at his elbow and Fili could feel his heart harden further.

“Perhaps,” he said, not quite agreeing before stepping inside the mountain, Kili at his side. The place still stank of dragon and Fili had no idea where he was truly going but Dwalin took command of the situation and Bombur talked to Dain before sending different dwarves to various places in the mountain with Balin’s help.

Somehow Fili was directed to the king’s suite, though he’s certain Kili was the one that guided them there. Once inside Kili moved to collapse on the stone bed that no longer had furs, so exhausted he didn’t care but Fili pulled him back.

“Brother,” Kili started to protest and Fili shook his head.

“You’re filthy,” he said, picking up a lock of Kili’s hair and the younger sucked in a deep breath, hands coming up to frame Fili’s braids, trailing down them and his hands came away stained further.

“Alright,” he agreed and they discarded the heaviest of their clothing before leaving again to find the baths fed by the stream and something to create a bed. No one questioned them both returning to the same room, or that Fili had still not taken off the circlet Balin had placed over his head, many of the warriors figuring out how they too could bath and sleep.

Kili spread out the sleeping roll he snagged from Dain’s supplies, their own lost somewhere, possibly still in the guard tower. Fili wavered, watching him before Kili sat down and looked up at him.

“Brother,” he said, strain in his voice and Fili moved forward, stopping in between Kili’s legs and the younger dwarf reached up, hands stopping in Fili’s damp hair and gently tugging the braids out of it. “This will have to be redone tomorrow,” he said and paused. “Brother,” he said, a question in his voice.

Hesitating, Fili finally nodded and Kili rose again to gently take the make shift crown off Fili’s head, setting it carefully aside. As soon as he faced his brother again he found himself pulled into a desperate kiss, mouths moving sloppily against each other and he tilted his head back, allowing Fili to arch him over the bed before they tumbled down together.

Each movement was exhausted and Fili’s hands were shaking as he pulled what remained of Kili’s clothes off, hands smoothing across his bare skin finally. “Stay with me,” he said, shuddering above Kili, unbraided hair falling oddly around his face.

“Always,” Kili said without hesitation, exhaustion and something else shining in his eyes as he leaned up, kissing below Fili’s eye. “My lover,” he said, and kissed underneath the other one. “My brother.” Finally, he tilted his head back, kissing Fili’s forehead. “My king.”

Shoving Kili’s shoulders back, Fili smashed their mouths together, tilting and shaking over his brother.

They spent the night curled in the center of the king’s chambers in one bedroll, Kili’s unbraided hair a dark stain over Fili’s.

w-w-w

The next several days were spent gathering and sorting the dead. Fili itched to take after the Arkenstone, and every time he passed where Balin sat vigil over Thorin’s body, he felt the need to chase after it pulling at his chest.

Kili found furs better befitting a king’s bed and the idea slowly settled in his mind, and three days after the battle, a coronation was held, Bard in attendance and looking grim and angry.

The weight of a real crown bearing his head down, Fili turned as Dain approached. They’d spoken several times, about which of Dain’s warriors wished to stay, and how quickly messages could be sent to the Erebor refugees that remained. Oddly, Fili did not wish to see his mother, knowing she would look at him differently now too, the way everyone else did. Even Kili’s expression had taken on another layer, something like a wary fear in it.

Now Dain crossed his arms over his stout chest and watched the king, Fili returning his gaze more levelly than he ever imagined he could.

“Will you go to war with the elves?” he asked.

“Yes,” Fili replied and Dain nodded.

“For the Heart of the Mountain,” he said and Fili only nodded.

w-w-w

The dead were buried, and Thorin entombed, and Fili wondered if it wouldn’t have been better for everyone if the Arkenstone had been laid to rest along him, the heart of the mountain returned where it belonged for all ages after.

Instead it was in a forest, in the hands of an elf that had turned away from Erebor in the past and Fili felt his chest twist.

(Bilbo had awoken on the field and Gandalf had found him. Hearing the news that Thorin was dead and the Arkenstone missing, Bilbo had bit his lip and nodded. Considering how he parted from the dwarves he asked the wizard if he could simply go home. He’d passed up his share of the treasure for the Arkenstone and even that was missing now.

Bofur had seen him off, though many of the dwarves shied away from the subject and Gandalf had gone with him, at least partway on his journey, fearing what he left behind but desiring above all to see the heart broken hobbit back home.

Gandalf went knowing that he should stay, but that his heart would break beyond what little he had left. Bilbo just left with a broken heart.)

“Brother,” Kili said behind him from where he stood, hands clasped behind his back looking at Thorin’s still face. “Come,” Kili said quietly, holding a hand out. “You should sleep.”

“Tomorrow we march again,” Fili said and Kili’s expression tightened before he nodded. They were no longer the children, the youngest who had never gone on a quest before. A crown weighed down Fili’s brow and Kili’s eyes were shadowed and there were scars along his cheek that had never been there before. On the battlefield he had been so covered in mire and blood Fili hadn’t noticed that some of the blood came from his own face. He’d only seen it when he lit lights the next morning, watching his brother stir and start to wake that morning.

Now he stepped forward, running a thumb along the healing lines and Kili’s breath stuttered out, tilting into that touch. “Will you march with me?”

“Always,” Kili said and the ghost of a smile appeared finally on his face. Fili kissed him then, in the tomb deep underground.

w-w-w-w

Kili paused the next morning, dawn having barely broken, waiting for his brother to come out of a council with Bard who once again was suing for peace and supplies. Like a loyal watchdog Kili had been pacing the hallway outside the closed door until Ori came around the corner making Kili finally stop.

“Ori,” he greeted quietly with a nod and the smaller dwarf returned the greeting quietly, stopping next to Kili and looking at the closed door, well aware of what was going on behind it.

“How far do you think he’ll go?” Ori asked, voice quiet and Kili looked over at him too quickly before remembering how different things were now. He still remembered Ori standing up in Bag End and saying nothing scared him, but he also remembered a dwarf in knit clothing with a sling shot. So much had changed since Ori yelled down an Orc captain on the battlefield before running at him and crushing his skull with a hammer as five armies fought around him and sometimes Kili still couldn’t reconcile the two dwarves in his mind.

Sometimes he can’t reconcile the King Under the Mountain with his brother.

“As far as he needs to,” Kili replied, looking at his boots and Ori glanced at him from where they both stood facing the door.

“And we’ll all follow him there, won’t we?” Ori asked quietly and Kili took a deep breath.

“So far as he goes,” he agreed quietly.

Ori nodded, looking back at the door. His fingers were stained with ink from where he’d been helping Balin all night with official and diplomatic correspondence, or as much diplomatic writing as Fili’s current reign required, which was depressingly little as the situation stood. “Should I not hope he doesn’t go too far?” Ori whispered and Kili sucked his breath in, letting it go carefully.

“I hope that too,” he admitted and Ori nodded again, eyes even more knowing than ever before. Bowing his head to the prince, he turned and continued his way down the hall, leaving Kili staring at the door and desperately hoping.

w-w-w

“You don’t have to do this,” Bard tried to say again and Fili blinked at him from across the table. They were alone in the chamber, and slowly Fili became used to the feel of a crown on his brow.

“My uncle,” Fili started, voice wavering and he swallowed to continue more firmly. “My uncle died reclaiming this kingdom. And that elf stole the very heart of this mountain and ran off with it. I _will_ reclaim it.”

Bard considered him, grim face stony. “Haven’t enough died already?” he asked and Fili barely suppressed a wince at the amount of dead they’d buried.

“Didn’t you hear me?” he said, standing, even though he gained no height on Bard, bracing his hands on the stone table. “I will not allow the heart of this mountain, of this kingdom to remain in that damned forest. I swear by the very stones of this kingdom, by the memory of my uncle whose tomb lays here, I will recover the Arkenstone and lay it upon his breast.”

Eyes widening, Bard took half a step back. “You should not take an oath lightly.”

“Do you really think I took that lightly?” Fili asked, cocking his head to one side.

Considering him for a long moment, Bard slowly shook his head. “No,” he said, mouth thinning. “I do not think you said that lightly at all.”

w-w-w

“The dwarves are marching again,” Elrond said, bracing both his hands on the back of the chair in front of him, watching Galadriel, who only hummed back at him. “It’s said the young king swore an oath on his very kingdom.”

Taking her gaze off where Arwen was moving through the trees, Galadriel raised a careful brow. “And you judge him for it?”

“He is a dwarf,” Elrond replied. “And like so many of them he cares only for the jewels and riches of the earth, damn the price for it.”

Galadriel looked at her daughter’s husband for a long moment. “Surely you have no forgotten the pain elves brought to themselves with such an oath,” she said quietly. “You’re parents suffered for it, and you were fostered for a time by one of Feanor’s sons. Those eight swore a much worse oath than any dwarf king could.”

Elrond considered her for a long moment. “That was a long time ago,” he said finally and Galadriel turned again, white gown swirling around her legs.

“A very long time ago,” she agreed. “But can you remember how many halls were ransacked and destroyed because of three stones? How often kin slayed kin for them? Thranduil should, since he was there when Doriath fell.”

“The dwarves were the ones who sacked that place, were they not?” Elrond said. “He’s been holding a grudge a very long time.”

“It was over a stone then too,” Galadriel said, moving through the room and stopped when she could see Arwen again. “You cannot judge the young king too harshly, though his actions are rash. He is not alone, and he is not unique.”

Elrond watched her, flexing his hands on the wood of the chair back. “Would you blame either of them?”

“Thranduil should at the very least know better,” she said, raising one hand to rest on the arch she stood at. “He should have known better about a lot of things.”

There was silence for a moment and Elrond joined her at the arch, watching his daughter where she stood singing by the fountain. “What should we do?” he asked. “To protect this realm, as we should, what should we do?”

“We wait,” she said finally. “There are other evil’s stirring. So we watch and we help if we must.”

“We should do more,” Elrond murmured.

“Should,” Galadriel inclined her head. “Perhaps. But our strength is diminishing. It is all I can do to protect the borders of my own realm and we do not have the armies we once did.”

“Which is why we should not allow Thranduil and Fili to kill each other,” Elrond said and quailed slightly when she turned to him.

“How would you rather stop it?” she asked, and when he didn’t answer she swept down from the arch, joining her granddaughter at the fountain. Leaning against the arch, Elrond sighed, a hand coming to cover his eyes. 


End file.
